


Fleeting Charades

by raviiel



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask
Genre: Ancient gods reading you like a book, Conversations with ancient gods, Escapism, Gen, Link doesn't know what to do with himself, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 14:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17469140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raviiel/pseuds/raviiel
Summary: In Termina, Link has a bed and a meal.





	Fleeting Charades

Not having to trade blood, sweat, and tears for a bed and a meal is something Link used to be unfamiliar with. He fought for a shred of a moment of peace, never knowing if he would scrape by with a handful of minutes to sleep or sustenance enough to keep going. A bed and a meal is a privilege for him; reward for saving the (a) world. He should know. He's done it twice.

The novelty has yet to wear off.

 _I can have this now,_ he thinks to himself while dissociated from the reality of it, but it doesn't mean as much as it probably should. He could have it before, but he left it behind. Tatl once accused him of straying from any kind of comfort on purpose during one of their (many) heated (one-sided) arguments.

_"It's like you gravitate towards suffering on purpose!"_

They hadn't spoken for days after that. She never verbally apologized, but he remembers her softened behavior and the extra help she offered in the following weeks. They never spoke of it again. Their last parting seemed to sew up all the falling apart they did during an endless cycle of three days.

 _I can have this now,_ he thinks again as Anju offers him a late lunch. Common lunch hours at the inn are over, but Anju likes to spoil Link, leaving him flustered in privacy when he thinks about it too much. She isn't the best cook, which is why Kafei often comes to his rescue with his own cooking (some of the best Link's ever had). He can't imagine why they shower him with such kindness, but it colors his face all sorts of red shades.

Their relationship is decades in the making, yet they unreasonably make him fit into it with careful doting despite the fact that they married on their fourth day of knowing him and then the months that followed. Aches bloom deep in Link's chest over it. They'll make great parents.

 _They give this to me,_ he thinks, and so does the rest of the town. None of the townspeople know the true story behind the moon losing its face and soaring back into the sky where it belonged, but Kafei is convinced it had been Link's doing and refuses to keep something so—he called it things like _incredible, a miracle,_ called Link things like a _savior,_ a _hero_ —significant in the lives of this world a secret.

He's never had a legacy before.

So he can have a bed, a meal, an almost-family, and a legacy… but what does he do with it? He has it like it's supposed to fill some part of him stolen long ago, but he has no idea what to do with it. He doesn't even want it. No, he isn't ungrateful, but rewards and recognition are a foreign concept; thus, uncomfortable.

He gently (awkwardly) declines Anju's offer and subsequently any interaction with the married couple before slipping away from the inn. They don't try to stop him.

The atmosphere of Clock Town is much calmer than it had ever been in Castle Town. No matter how many times he tells himself they're different places, the uncannily similar faces and even the new ones still remind him of the house he left behind. Joviality still brims, cheer and good will, but the townspeople have been humbled entirely by their experiences and sorrows under the oppression of pending doom—unlike in Castle Town, where doom persecuted none but one.

Had Link come home the Hero there, the fanfare would be endless; he would be hailed, revered, third to only the Golden Triad and then the treasured Princess. He imagines so, anyway.

Clock Town is not Castle Town.

Here, he is greeted warmly but ultimately left to his own devices. People invite inclusion but know him to decline at every turn, yet it doesn't stop them. He prefers it. It's nice to be thought of, and they're good people outside the strain of misery. He appreciates their newfound value for personal space, something effortlessly accommodated in spades after the perpetual claustrophobia of catastrophe.

Clock Town must have been a lot like Castle Town at one point though.

A gate soldier simply nods his head at Link on his way to the east.

Termina Field greets with sunshine and fresh air for him to bask in, and he does. Fewer dangerous creatures roam free now, allowing him to be less in his skin and more in tune with his surroundings, but Link has to swiftly take care of any that happen to wander from their habitats every now and then. Other than that, he has so much free time that he wanders. It's surreal in a land already dreamlike enough.

No terrorizing monsters to defeat, no dungeons to crawl, rarely people to save...

This is what he spends most of his time doing. Wandering. Searching. Looking for something he isn't sure of. He'll travel to Romani Ranch to lend a hand in whatever he can and then return, wandering back to the inn late at night. He'll travel just far enough into the other regions to meander but never enough to meet with their denizens. There's no longer reason to interfere with their lives.

There's no longer reason to interfere with the lives of anyone in Termina. Now, there is only wandering.

That night, he returns to the inn to have his meal, and then turn into his bed.

 

The next day is different. (There are next days now, no longer counted in a number simultaneously blessed and cursed.) Someone is waiting for him outside the gates, and the shock of seeing them immediately turns Link back on his heel to head for more rest—seeing _them_ is a clear sign of sleep depravity.

The figure towers above his own modest four-and-a-half feet—double his size, even. Everything about the sight of them triggers his fight-or-flight response and his hands twitch for sword and shield in a way they haven't in months. He wants to rub his eyes.

The figure does not move and only studies him with phantom white eyes that outshine the sunlight. Link is strikingly reminded of his older body (taken away after being thrown into it), but this stature trades his awkward lumbering and unsure posture for a steel spine and a dangerous dignity. Something very old, brutal, and feral hides in the bold slashes of red and blue under the sharp gloss of white.

Link tilts his head. This mask isn't on his person because it's gingerly put away at the bottom of the chest in his temporary room, meticulously cloaked and sealed. Yes, it had been crucial in the decisive battle against Majora, but Link took every precaution to hide it away afterwards because of what it had nearly done to him.

His body was not meant to contain the wrath of a ferocious god.

 _What are you doing here,_ he almost asks, but it can't _really_ be here, not when masks in this world host spirits of the dead and not corporeal bodies. Maybe he does need more sleep.

He treks past he figment towards the telltale pillars that lead to the deep canyons and ridges of Ikana. Today, he'd been thinking about visiting Pamela and her father to make sure things over there were still in good shape. Despite the threat of Majora being gone, the soil is still recovering from being steeped with the blood of violent ambition. Ghouls always seem to be an issue around there.

He makes it all of a few feet before a voice stops him—not from around him, but from inside his mind.

_"There is nothing there for you, little one."_

Link turns. The phantom is no longer behind him but next to him. He looks up at it, and it bores down at him. Link continues to walk. He doesn't hear the voice again.

 

Pamela and her father are doing fine. Though Link can still taste cursed and unsettled spirits in the air, nature has begun its reclamation of the land, growing through the crusty cracks of the ground and crawling ever so slowly over the abandoned houses and the great old castle. In a few decades, it may actually be hospitable to people who don't unconsciously thirst for danger and search for answers to questions that should never be asked like Pamela's father. Their music box house is still a beacon for ghosts that haven't seen color in well over a hundred years. Link doesn't try to understand.

Satisfied with the condition of Ikana Canyon (with hopes that someday the soaked blood might actually feed life instead of be a reminder that it can be stolen), Link heads for the graveyard to check if Dampé needed any help tending to the graves.

It's astounding that a single man as frightened of his work and timid as Dampé maintains the vast land that keeps the graves of the Ikana royal family, alongside the connecting yards that rest its soldiers. He usually turns down Link's assistance, so he mostly checks in without intruding on the man's job.

By the time Link emerges from the canyons, the sun is beginning to set. He pauses at the skyward pillars to look up into the sky. Worn slivers of his mind anticipate discovering a gruesome face, ready to surrender to another round of three days, but he spots the moon in the distance, faceless and faraway like it should be. He ignores the relief in his chest.

_"It is the norm for little ones to scare at the sight of atrocities not of this world."_

Link pointedly does _not_ startle at the echoing voice in his head and looks past the pillars instead to find the phantom again. He walks towards the gates.

_"A brave soul banished the evil in this land. There is nothing left for them to do here."_

Link almost stops. Almost.

He returns to the inn later than usual. In the oven is a meal meant for him. Although it tastes like nothing, he eats it earnestly and overlooks his knotting stomach.

Before retiring for the night, he checks the chest and digs to the bottom. It's still there—the mask, wrapped carefully and sealed with a talisman. With a breath, he puts it back, closes the chest, and studies it a moment. Nothing. His brow furrows.

He turns into a bed meant for him. Sleep doesn't come easy.

 

This sets a precedent for the following days. Link keeps busy with helping out instead of wandering, accepting invitations instead of declining. People are surprised but include him in good nature, though he mostly blends into the background. It doesn't seem to matter much—no matter where he is or how many people surround him, Link can spy the figment watching him. He's not frightened by it or desperate for it to disappear, but why is it showing up everywhere he does of its own accord? He no longer needs (or wants) its power.

He's concerned the opposite might be true. He's only worn that mask once, but he knows its power is dark and overwhelming—not unlike Majora's. Case in point: his soul nearly bonding permanently the moment he put it on and control over his own body being rend from his hands. Link only embodies a hero's spirit, but that combining with the spirit of a demon god can mean nothing but trouble, and the mask must know it too. Could it want him like Majora wanted a vessel?

No.

Were that the case, it would've already happened. So what does it want?

In Link's experience, spirits and specters only appear when they have unfinished business. He hasn't seen traces of Darmani or Mikau since he completed what they could not. He's never faced the spirit of the Deku's mask either. What can he do to rest the soul of a warrior god? Spirits usually reveal what they want from him, what they need him to do for them. Even with all his supposed might, what can he do for a _god?_

The only thing the deity's soul has said to him is that there is nothing left for him in Termina.

He's been ignoring those words, but maybe it's time to take them into account.

 

The specter awaits him as usual, this time on the shores of the Great Bay. He's already tended to Mikau's grave and is now free to sit on the sand without having to worry about Leevers making a ritual out of him in their endless circling. An eternal horizon of water painted by oranges and pinks and purples that drip from the sky slowly eats the sun to give way to another night with a faceless moon. Before tripping into Termina, Link had never seen the ocean, had never even heard of one. He's sure the royal library of Hyrule Castle has books on such things, but Link can't quite read Hylian. He'd like to learn someday.

Link lays his sword and shield next to him before resting back on his hands. The sand is still warm from the day and he sinks his fingers in it, enjoying the texture against his skin. His legs stretch out and his head tilts back, and Link lets what's left of light warm him. He inhales and exhales, relaxing into something he hasn't felt in a long time. Something like peace.

The deity does not sit, rendering Link even smaller. Now that he's put some thought into why it might be (for lack of a better word) haunting him, he's less daunted. He glances to see it watching him as usual.

_"You would have me join you?"_

Link nods.

The deity seems to think on it a moment before taking up on his offer. It settles down and still dwarfs Link.

They sit and Link uses this time to gauge the deity's aura for traces of malevolence. He doesn't have Zelda's knack for it, nor Tatl's, nor Na—

…

There's no evil. No greed or need to devour. Link can only sense a restlessness, a kind of insomnia that has been fermenting for years beyond his own comprehension. Despite that, it's… familiar; a desire to lay down everything after journeying for far too long, a tiredness that sets in after all that can be done has been done.

Its voice breaks his thoughts.

_"There is nothing left for you here, little one."_

Link lets his sideways look speak for him—he is not little and hasn't been for a very long time.

The phantom of the great deity understands innately. _"You are all young in my eyes."_ It then studies him a moment. _"Although… I have oft wondered about you, little one."_

It's a reasonable thing to be curious about—the deity and everyone else for that matter. He shrugs.

 _"You do not belong to this world,"_ the deity tells him, _"so why is it that you stay here? What is it that you avoid?"_

An ache that Link has been smothering returns with a vengeance, so swift and intrusive that it steals his breath. He's been keeping it at bay by staying busy, with helping people and wandering and tending to graves that hold too many memories around his heart. But now, thanks to the deity's sobering questions, the ache is a riptide through him, washing him with memories and fears and terrors and wishes and _hopes_ that can be no more—

The most he does is sit up and crisscross his legs.

 _"I see it in you, too,"_ the deity says, _"that which ails me. Though you retain a child's appearance, your soul is far older than others would credit."_ It looks towards the darkening horizon. _"You will not find that which you seek here."_

Link shoots to his feet. The deity looks at him without surprise and he sharply turns towards it, his entire body an accusation. The deity's expression is placid, though consistent in its intensity thanks to the war paint and eyes without pupil. Link doesn't shrink away where anyone sensible would.

 _"It is true,"_ it replies, _"there is nothing left for me here as well. This land no longer has a need for a warrior."_

Heat immediately drains from Link's blood. He sighs and eases his shoulders, loosens his fists. Termina is not Hyrule. It lacks two pieces of a trinity that shouldn't exist. There is no need for a hero that returns in a time of need to defeat an evil that refuses to stay down. There is no need for a worn soul to reawaken when wicked spirits rise again. No need for a princess to call upon someone so very different from her to join forces and slay the malevolent monster.

He sits back down.

 _"You have done this land a great service and she will be forever grateful,"_ the deity goes on to say, but sobriety taints his tone again, _"but now you must ask yourself: Why do you remain here?"_

Link closes his eyes in a poor attempt to block out the question. It's strange to be asked that by a being so clearly connected to this land. Much of the Fierce Deity mask's existence remains shrouded in mystery to him, but one thing he knows outside of its dangerous capabilities is that it is deeply rooted in Termina and its people. So much of that union reflects Link's inexplicable bond with Hyrule, and Link wonders if the deity feels the same inescapable responsibility to this place.

The single difference is that the deity remains here while Link has left Hyrule.

 _"Why do you refuse to return?"_ the deity asks, though it must know that Link doesn't want to talk about it. His fingers begin drawing nonsensical patterns into the cooling sand.

This part of his journey began with trying to find a friend dear to his heart, someone who gifted him with the only semblance of normalcy and safety he's ever had; she reminded him of simpler times, of laughter in the forest and being with his one and only father, his friends, and living without worry. Then, just when he might be able to have all of that back… she vanishes into a stream of light that poured onto the object that galvanized his disillusionment. He arrived in Termina and suddenly had another world to save, and she was nowhere to be found—she still isn't.

So now he's here with a people who make space for him, with a meal, a bed, an almost-family… and a legacy.

 _"But that will not quell your turmoil,"_ the deity says, so soft and gentle that it doesn't sound like a god or a warrior, but a human who understands. That shadow of sympathy wells up in Link's throat and burns his nostrils and stings his eyes. He looks from the sand to the sun that has almost vanished beneath the ocean. He opens his mouth.

_"It is time to leave, little one. There is nothing for either of us here any longer."_

The ocean and sky blur together before Link's eyes.

 

For the first time since he put it away, Link pulls out the mask of the Fierce Deity and peels away its seal entirely. He unfurls it from the cloth to lay in his lap, and in the sleep of the inn, he can feel its aura without interruption. Time hadn't exactly been on his side when he received it, the final battle with Majora hot on the heels of it falling into his possession for some reason he still can't understand. He hadn't touched it since then, all too aware of the unstable and overwhelming power it held.

Who he's spoken to doesn't feel like this mask had at first. Masks can lose their power like Majora's had after Link defeated it—how, he's not sure. He knows that the masks of Darmani, Mikau, and the Deku are still imbued with the spirit and capacity of their derivation. The Fierce Deity's mask is like those in that it lends Link its power, but who had it belonged to?

 _Old…_ he thinks as he smooths his fingers over the red paint. Whoever it originally was, they're ancient. He had first touched the mask and ignored the lurch in his stomach that told him it was dangerous in favor of its aid (a mistake he plans to never make again, trading autonomy for power), but when he runs his fingers over it now, it only hums with an admittedly familiar weariness.

The deity had told him there was nothing left here for it either. If it's connected to Termina, what happens when it's taken away?

 

Link would like to say that he thought long and hard about the decision, but what choice was there to make? The Fierce Deity was right: there is nothing left for him in Termina but an offer of escapism that he should have turned away the moment it was presented to him. Although this land left him with scars as deep as his quest to save Hyrule, she also gave him something Hyrule never could: a taste of belonging, of sharing a death-dealing experience and having to live with trauma and upheaval it bred. For that simple, bitter thing, Link is grateful.

Regardless, he's overstayed his welcome.

There's no one in particular to say goodbye to. Clock Town may have adopted him, but the people will eventually forget the boy who arrived and three days later, erased the moon's face. It's only natural—people like Link can't truly exist in an every-day reality. They're meant to fade into legend, into stories told by little old ladies who speak people into deep sleeps, into songs hummed to cows to soothe them, into bragging rights by children who claimed to know the legend firsthand.

Link is okay with that.

In the morning, Anju will find a simple note with poorly scrawled Terminan and she'll likely cry. Kafei will wonder why they weren't enough, and she'll cry harder. Link can never make up for that, but he hopes they'll understand someday.

With the Fierce Deity's mask secured to his hip, he steals into the night. To avoid questioning by the night guard, he climbs over the walls in the northern part of town by using the taller trees that grow there.

When his feet hit the perimeter road in the quiet of night, he breathes deeply. The night is unassuming, nothing strange or remarkable in the air that might indicate Link will never see it again. That's just how it should be, he thinks, because this is how he'd like to remember Termina: ordinary, safe, peaceful.

From his pouch, he pulls the familiar weight of the Ocarina of Time and raises it to his lips for the first time in months. Epona's song croons into the air and he thinks of LonLon Ranch and Malon who shares a face with two sisters, wondering when the next time will be that they'll see those green pastures.

Epona responds eagerly, galloping to his side with more spring in her step than he's seen in a long time. He can't help the fond smile that twitches at his lips and takes a moment to ground himself by running his hands over her white mane. Cremia and Romani took care of her wonderfully when Link wasn't around, and he's grateful to them for it. Sometimes, he thinks he takes her for granted even when she's been with him all this time too, loyal and loving. She will never have to be the steed that he rode into hell with once upon a time, but he doesn't want her to be anyway.

After mounting her, Link turns. The Fierce Deity is standing next to him in all its gargantuan height. Unless he gathered a few boxes to stand on, Link could never reach its height, not even when he's all grown up again. (Not that he wants to be tall enough to be above everything around him. Must be lonely up there.)

Epona snorts uncomfortably and he rubs her neck. He tilts his head at the deity.

 _"Do you fret over what will become of me?"_ Hints of amusement tinge its voice. _"Such is your default nature, the wish and duty to liberate others from their suffering."_

If it's meant to be a jeer—Link can hear Tatl mocking him about the same thing—he doesn't register it.

_"This land no longer has a need for a warrior to defend it."_

As simple as that, Link understands. His gaze turns expectant. The deity nods.

_"I will guide you from this place."_

 

If there's anything being on a quest to save the world has taught him, it's to never look back. When the lives of so many hang in the balance, there's no time to. So, although the world isn't in great peril and in need of a hero, Link doesn't look back. He will not pretend to miss the pretense of a meal waiting for him, a bed, an almost family, and a legacy. He will not pretend to miss the fleeting charade of belonging.

Termina and he part ways as unlikely friends. Hyrule awaits the return of its estranged son, but it will have to wait longer still.

The most fierce deity of them all begins to guide him away, and he follows.

 

Somewhere between dimensions, the hum of the mask on his hip decrescendos until it finally sleeps. Like everything else in his life, Link puts that to rest too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back back back back again gain gain with another legend of zelda oneshot that makes no damn sense lmaooo Hashtag Anyway™ this is my first oneshot on my new laptop after losing everything i've ever had on my other laptop and lemme tell you. it does shit things to a guy's depression. i'm suffering.
> 
> i've been building a big headcanon for the Fierce Deity (and Termina) and this sorta falls into it? kinda. but not really. i just wanted to write a conversation between it and Link, something i'm likely to do again because my life is spiraling out of control
> 
> i hope you enjoyed reading!


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